


The Sun's and Her Power is the Same

by AislinCade



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinCade/pseuds/AislinCade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela thinks it’s kind of sweet, the way Hawke dotes on Aveline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun's and Her Power is the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenyxhawke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenyxhawke/gifts).



There’s been word of a group of bandits holed up in the old slaver caverns on the Wounded Coast, harassing travellers and attacking caravans moving through the area. Normally a job for Kirkwall’s city guard, but they’ve been a touch busy lately, what with all the political unrest. Of course, the illustrious lady Hawke is always happy to help her guard captain, and so here they are, trudging along the briny rock paths they’ve walked a hundred times or more in the years they’ve been working together.

Isabela thinks it’s kind of sweet, the way Hawke dotes on Aveline. Of course, Aveline doesn’t see it that way: she seems to think Hawke is mocking her more often than not, but Isabela knows when her lady love’s got a crush, and this one predates their relationship by a year or more. Even Varric watches the two of them with an indulgent little smirk, and he and Isabela have traded a few significant glances on their way up the coast today already.

There’s a poorly-hidden figure on a rock ledge up ahead, watching them from behind a scraggy bit of mountain foliage. “Scouts,” Aveline intones, her voice pitched low.

“I’ve got this,” says Hawke, brandishing her staff with a flourish and running ahead, cackling excitedly. She’s already casting by the time Isabela and Aveline catch up to her, while Varric hangs back to cover them.

Hawke is momentarily radiant with magic, as if lit from within, and then lightning begins to rain down around them, drawing the scouts out of cover as they scramble away from the tempest. Isabela counts seven of them before she makes for the shadows of a nearby rock ledge.

“Face me!” calls Aveline from the center of the melee, “I stand for all of us!” Three scouts head for her, while the other four stand at range with bows at the ready. Isabela sets her sights on the nearest bowman and closes in on him, waits until he’s got his bow lined up, and takes him out with a dagger to the throat before he can get a shot off.

Crossbow bolts whiz past from Varric’s location, one landing square in the center of another bowman’s forehead. Hawke is helping Aveline control the swordsmen, keeping one paralyzed and calling forth jagged bolts of magical lightning that arc from one to the next. 

An errant sword connects with Hawke’s torso, a glancing blow, but she cries out in frustration as it interrupts her spell casting, but Aveline quickly maneuvers herself between Hawke and the swordsman before he can line up another blow. “You go through me before anyone else,” Aveline snarls, bashing him off-balance with her shield and running him through on her sword. 

Isabela stuns another bowman with a series of quick stabs, then rolls around behind him and elbows him hard between the shoulderblades, sending him stumbling forward. Varric is used to this move, and he’s already firing his shot by the time Isabela meets his eyes across the battlefield. She salutes him with a grin and heads for the remaining archer, nearly takes an arrow in the shoulder but manages to evade in time. She takes him out quickly, then rushes back toward Aveline and Hawke, but the last swordsman drops before she gets there.

“You know, Hawke,” says Varric as he approaches, rubbing Bianca down with a bit of oilcloth. “You should probably let Aveline do the charging into battle. You know, the guard captain? With all the heavy armor built for taking hits with swords?”

Hawke downs a potion and stands defiant, panting with exertion, and wincing slightly as the potion’s medicinal ingredients get to work knitting her torn skin back together. Isabela draws close, delicately lifts away the torn fabric of Hawke’s tunic to survey the damage. She clicks her tongue against her teeth when she sees the angry stretch of jagged red along Hawke’s side. “We’ll need to put some salve on it later, love, to keep the wound from scarring.” A perfect excuse to touch Hawke -- not that any excuses are necessary. 

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” Hawke says as she tosses the empty potion bottle back into her pack. Still, her hand on Isabela’s is light, her smile fond, before she turns her attention back to Varric. “And I’ll have you know, my armor is heavy too. Have you seen this gauntlet?” She lifts her right arm flexes her armored fingers in demonstration, the metal clacking against itself and her spiked pauldron shifting over her shoulder with her movements.

“Right,” Varric laughs, “At least your arm is safe.” He leans down over a nearby corpse and rummages through its possessions, and Isabela and Hawke follow his lead. Aveline stands apart from them with a bit of a scowl. She’s never liked looting the dead, but at least she doesn’t say anything about it.

“Varric is right, Hawke,” is what Aveline does say, which prompts a shocked huff of breath from the dwarf.

“Huh, never thought I’d live to see the day,” he mutters, earning him a roll of Aveline’s eyes.

“I can’t protect you as well if you rush ahead like that,” Aveline continues, sounding both chagrined and sincere in that way she has, and Hawke’s cheeks are predictably pink, her eyes shining with amusement and affection when Isabela glances her way. 

“Oh, ser Aveline, my knight in shining armor. You’ve never let me down yet.”

Aveline, as usual, thinks she’s being mocked, so she sighs. “Just let me lead the charge into the caverns, please,” she says, aiming an expression that’s somehow stern and imploring simultaneously.

“Oh, fine,” Hawke relents. “You can have the fun bit this time.”

“Thank you,” says Aveline sincerely, and she walks ahead to lead them toward the cliff and completely misses the puppyish adoration in Hawke’s eyes as she falls in step behind.

Isabela pinches Hawke’s arm, leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re adorable.” 

***

It takes less than an hour to clear out the bandits. The ones inside the cavern don’t pose much more of a fight than the scouts had done, there had just been more of them. 

Hawke, true to her word, had allowed Aveline to lead the first charge, but it hadn’t taken long for her to forget herself to impulsivity and she’d rushed headlong into each new group, laughing like a madwoman. She’d earned herself a few more injuries in the process, but she’s none the worse for wear as they make their way back to Kirkwall, their pockets heavy with valuables stripped from the corpses and stolen from the bandits’ stashes.

“First round’s on me,” Hawke declares just outside the gate, shaking her purse to make the coin inside jingle. 

“My generous love,” says Isabela, nudging Hawke’s hip with her own. Hawke giggles, her hand falling to rest on Isabela’s lower back, her thumb tucking into the belt at her waist.

Aveline slows and turns, an apology written on her face. “I’m sorry, Hawke, I can’t tonight. I promised Donnic--”

“Oh, the troubles of married life,” Hawke interrupts dramatically, puffing a gust of air up into the fringe of hair that hangs over her forehead. “I think you’re just allergic to fun,” she pouts.

“I--” Aveline begins, but then something unusual happens. Normally her sparse, red eyebrows would furrow and she’d set her jaw, thinking she was being teased, but instead Isabela sees the moment of fond indulgence on her freckled face. “Oh, all right. I suppose a few drinks wouldn’t hurt.”

Hawke’s smile is radiant. Isabela flashes Aveline a smile of her own, a hint of gratitude on her lips. “Let’s go before our benevolent patron changes her mind,” she says, raising her hand to Hawke’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.


End file.
